4

Disney’s still too scared to say “gay”

For decades, Disney has prided itself 
on creating magic. Disney’s products 
are designed to add some magic to life, 
to create an escape from the greater 
problems of the world. But all of that 
work promoting itself as a source of 
joy and happily-ever-after sometimes 
seems like a shiny coat of paint over 
a cluster of wider issues. The truth is, 
when you wish upon Disney’s star … 
well, it might make a difference who 
you are.
In the grand scheme of things, the 
umbrella of Disney companies occupies 
an incredible amount of cultural space. 
Despite being technically intended 
for kids, Disney’s movies, media and 
theme parks have an outsized effect on 
adults. Such an audience gives Disney 
influence and relevance not afforded to 
most companies.
As a result, one of the strongest traits 
at the heart of Disney’s business model 
is that they try to please everyone. 
Find themselves with a controversial 
installment in a beloved franchise? 
Use the next movie to walk everything 
back. Release a movie that represents 
Pixar’s first box office failure? Stick 
to sequels based on existing IP. Get 
complaints about the homogenous 
nature of stories told in Disney films? 

Branch out to different media. 
Over the past decade or so, Disney 
has leaned into a push for diversity 
in media, both in terms of characters 
and the creators who bring them 
to life. But one area where Disney 
has been increasingly hesitant is the 

inclusion of LGBTQ+ characters, and 
its stance on LGBTQ+ rights. In recent 
months, this hesitancy has unfolded 
dramatically in relation to the “Don’t 
Say Gay” bill in Florida. After initially 
not making a statement against the 
bill, numerous outraged employees 
spoke out on social media; Disney later 
apologized to employees and made 
an open statement of opposition that 
caused Florida Gov. Ron DeSantis to 
take away tax-related autonomy that 
was previously awarded to Disney’s 
Orlando-based 
theme 
parks 
and 
resorts. 
Disney’s timidness about its support 
of the LGBTQ+ community is nothing 
new. For years, Disney has walked the 
line about Queer characters, trying 
to include characters that they can 
peddle as gay while also minimizing 
their presence to avoid enraging 
conservative 
Americans. 
Disney’s 
strategy, up until now, has been trying 
to appease both sides; the result, 
however, is that neither side is satisfied.
Over the past few years, Disney 
and its subsidiaries have made several 
half-hearted attempts at LGBTQ+ 
representation in films and TV shows 
(although Disney has a long-running 
habit of queer-coding characters). In 
2017’s “Beauty and the Beast” live-
action remake, Le Fou is canonically 
gay because of a brief dance between 
him and Gaston. “Star Wars: Rise 

of Skywalker” features a brief kiss 
between two women. “Avengers: 
Endgame” shows a male character 
casually mentioning going on a date 
with a man. In “Onward,” a police 
officer briefly mentions her girlfriend. 
Most recently, a brief kiss between 

two married women in “Lightyear” 
received a lot of press — initially 
because of its removal and subsequent 
return, but more so now because of the 
countries that have banned the film’s 
release because of it.
The connecting word here? “Brief.” 
All of these “representations” of 
LGBTQ+ characters were less than 10 
seconds.
These attempts to add Queer 
characters to the canon feel hollow 
because they are. Being inclusive and 
open-minded is trendy for businesses. 
Checking boxes — a gay character 
here, a person of Color there, a disabled 
character somewhere in there — is a 
business strategy designed to prove 
a kind of inclusivity that is becoming 
more prevalent in the U.S.
The reality of an issue-conscious 
economy 
is 
what 
leads 
to 
a 
phenomenon called rainbow washing. 
Rainbow washing is when a business 
shows public support for the LGBTQ+ 
community without putting in any 
actual work towards empowering 
queer folks. It’s associated with empty 
gestures like changing logos for pride 
month (which are then routinely 
changed back on July 1) that create a 
front-facing show of support without 
addressing the culture within their 
company — or, more often than not, 
without 
acknowledging 
donations 
to 
anti-LGBTQ+ 
politicians. 
It’s 
hypocritical but tactical; this way, if 
companies are accused of being bigoted 
or homophobic, they can point to their 
rainbow logo and tell conscientious 
consumers, “No … see?”
In the case of Disney, selling pride 
merchandise and changing their logo 
and social media scheme during Pride 
Month is only part of their rainbow-
friendly strategy; the same mentality 
behind rainbow-washing is what leads 
to the incremental inclusion of Queer 
characters. Each of these moments, 
despite feeling like the bare minimum, 
is then touted as momentous by 
directors and executives and conflated 
into a significance that feels difficult 
(if not impossible) to achieve in the 
span of a few seconds. Showing 
small, 
ephemeral 
exchanges 
of 
affection between gay characters is a 
welcome step, but categorizing it as a 
“milestone” feels disingenuous; more 
often than not, it’s marketing.

S T A T E M E N T

The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
4 — Wednesday, June 29, 2022 

My dad says that every good joke has 
some layer of truth to it. In the ongoing 
cultural pursuit to determine what 
makes “funny” things funny, he argues 
that the most effective jokes are those 
rooted in real human experiences and 
emotions. Usually, this comment is in 
reference to an unreasonably offensive 
comment made by me that I attempt 
to write off as a joke out of guilt and/or 
embarrassment. But not always, and 
fortunately, not in this piece. 
I’ve always wondered if my dad is 
right, so let’s test it out with a very small 
and very unprofessional case study of 
a joke from Comedy Central’s “Broad 
City” that is somewhat realistic yet 
absolutely ridiculous. And a little, let’s 
say, intimate. That’s your warning!
One of “Broad City’s” many running 
gags is that one of its protagonists, Ilana, 
sneaks weed through airport security by 
putting it up her vagina — as one does. 
When the drug-sniffing dog senses 
what’s going on, Ilana already has a 
plan in motion: She wears white pants 
stained with old-period blood and cries 
that the dog is sexually harassing her 
in a voice eminent of the quintessential 
helpless woman. It’s hard to describe 
with words without making it seem 
wildly disgusting and uncomfortable, 
but it’s never failed to make me laugh. 
And so I ask myself: If the truth theory 
is applicable, where are the roots of this 
bit?
I believe it can be boiled down into 
three relatively simple truths:
Before weed was legal in much of the 
United States, people had to get pretty 
creative to move it around.
Even 
though 
half 
the 
world 
experiences them, periods are a taboo 
enough subject to make a well-meaning 
TSA officer run back to his podium, no 
questions asked. 
Someone who bled through their 
pants in a public place would typically 
feel embarrassed and defenseless.
Ilana uses the last two truths to 
her advantage, subverting cultural 
expectations for women in order to 
accomplish her goal. If I could ever 
get my dad to watch enough of “Broad 
City” to get to this episode, I think he’d 
appreciate the joke. Ilana, in all her 
boldness and over-the-top scheming, 
brings to the forefront a piece of 

womanhood we often quietly tiptoe 
around.
So it seems that my dad’s theory, in 
this scenario, checks out. We laugh with 
Ilana not only because she’s funny, but 
because her ideas come from the well-
known lived experience of her and her 
audience. The entirety of “Broad City” 
follows this trend, telling the story of 
two late-20s Jewish women living in a 
very real — and often very demeaning — 
New York City. The show’s creators and 
stars, Ilana Glazer and Abbi Jacobson, 
are the modern iteration of a somewhat 
particular but extremely necessary 
niche; the professional truth-teller.
In the midst of a post-war obsession 
with the G-rated, obedient housewife, 
a slew of Jewish women worked to 
tell the tales of an honest, realistic and 
thought-provoking female experience. 
In her discourse, “One Clove Away 
From a Pomander Ball: The Subversive 
Tradition of Jewish Female Comedians,” 
historian 
Joyce 
Antler 
chronicles 
the cultural space occupied by these 
comedians since the mid-20th century. 
“Fanny Brice, Molly Picon, and 
Gilda Radner mugging it up may not 
seem dignified, and certainly Joan 
Rivers clowning about fallen vaginas is 
anything but,” Antler wrote. “However, 
these comedians’ performances show 
that Jewish women can be proud of the 
comic tradition in which they have been 
trailblazers.”
The success of these comedic 
pioneers, Antler suggests, can be partially 
attributed to their connections to, and 
commentary on, womens’ liberation. In 
a media landscape where women were 
often restricted in self-expression to only 
what men could tolerate, Jewish female 
comedians forced their audiences to 
reconsider their perceptions of the 
female body and mind. 
“Perhaps this is because women’s 
humor often deals with the incongruities 
and inequities of a world founded on 
gender distinctions,” Antler continued. 
“Their humor challenges the structures 
that keep women from power by turning 
our attention to things that matter to 
women.”
It shouldn’t be surprising, then, that 
another common trait among these 
women is their unapologetic boldness. 
They’re the women who can’t be kept 
down or silenced or asked to keep their 
content clean. 

 KARI ANDERSON
Statement Correspondent 

Read more at michigandaily.com
Read more at michigandaily.com

EMILY BLUMBERG 
Statement Correspondent 

Design by Priya Ganji

What we don’t say out loud